


Heartache

by pridecookies



Series: (femHawke x Anders One Shots) The Healer Has the Bloodiest Hands. [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Hurt, I dont know how to tag, I just write things, Mages (Dragon Age), and complicated ideologies, and cry over pixels, and drink wine, and dynamics, hnnngh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:41:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27551701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pridecookies/pseuds/pridecookies
Summary: Sarah Hawke confronts Anders about what happened with Ella and has to face her own fears about it.
Relationships: Anders/Female Hawke, Anders/Hawke (Dragon Age), Anders/Justice (Dragon Age)
Series: (femHawke x Anders One Shots) The Healer Has the Bloodiest Hands. [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1943800
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	Heartache

Sarah Hawke walked into the clinic, alone and uncharacteristically unsure. It was difficult to keep her distance the last couple days, after what happened. But she knew she needed to. She needed time. He needed time. Anders was sitting at a desk, frantically writing something. For a moment she watched him before alerting him to her presence. Looking around the clinic, there was a familiar pang in her chest, a lingering ache in her stomach. Years he had spent, building up this place, helping people. It was so close to coming undone. It was empty now, a rare occasion. It seemed like less patients were trickling in.  _ Why _ that was could be very good or very bad. It was not something she would dwell on now. Her eyes rested on the mage. It was unnerving, what one person could do. The damage and the restoration, all at once. She had spent years feeling a domineering pull toward him, a constant hungry need to just for one moment see him smile.  _ Please, Maker. Let him smile.  _ He turned toward where she stood and at the sight of her, his excitement seemed palpable. Her heartbeat quickened and she cursed herself for it. 

“Good,” he said, rather manic in his movements as she approached him, “You’re here. There was something I wanted to show you.” 

Sarah watched him a moment, guarded. Despite what happened not two days ago, he seemed remarkably...  _ stable _ . It was unnerving. She had watched as the overriding force of Vengeance, despite his protestations, wore Anders’ skin and threatened a frightened child for even daring to suggest his form was demonic. The look on Ella’s face, the raw terror, was burned into the flesh of her eyelids, never to be removed. When she came to find him, he was in a frenzy, looking through the contents of his belongings.

_ Trash. Keep. Trash. Keep. Trash. _

_ Don’t. Talk to me. _

_ I’m a monster. _

_ No, Anders. All I see here is someone to keep. _

_ I should get out of Kirkwall, go where I can’t hurt anyone. Would you have me leave? _

Maybe it was wrong of her to ask, but she didn’t know what else to do. She couldn’t bear to think of him alone, undone with the spirit he wrestled with, broken by grief and shackled by guilt. She cared too much and she knew it. It was irrevocable and she hated it but she knew it. 

_ No. Stay. With me. _

“We need to talk,” Sarah approached him. He wasn’t listening, he was shuffling papers and holding them out in front of him with a kind of rapt expression. 

“I’ve been writing down my thoughts,” he countered, “My arguments.”

“I don’t want to listen to this right now,” Sarah frowned, “We need to talk about Ella.”

“If I can convince someone like you that the Circle is abusive and unjust--”

Sarah was starting to feel a very familiar mounting frustration and she flexed her fists, “Anders, we can argue the ideological differences we have on the Chantry some other time, any other time. Tomorrow, next month, I don’t care. Not today. We need to talk about Ella. Please. You were upset before and I don’t think you have really--”

“Yes, Ella. Who was going to be made Tranquil and abused by the Templars despite the fact that she was no danger to herself or others. Which is what I… _ need _ you to grasp.”

“Templar, singular. One man.”

“You were there,” Anders spat, “It was not one man. There were a dozen men, all following orders, all too happy to hurt a child. You think no one else in the Gallows knew what he was doing and allowed it? The Maker granted mages a gift and yet Templars set themselves above us. They would make even Harrowed mages Tranquil and abuse them for their own needs and I think you know exactly what needs those are. You would defend that?”

“Oh, please. No one is defending that.”

“Then explain why you are  _ so reticent _ to denounce the Order.”

“I wouldn’t even  _ be here _ without a Templar, Anders. Without a Templar my father would never have been able to escape the Circle, my mother would have had to give me up. It was a  _ Templar _ that made it possible for him to run away with her safely.”

“You never told me that.”

“I never needed to. Have you ever thought, using that chaotic, wonderful, stupid mind of yours, about what it's like to  _ be _ a Templar? To go through what they go through? No, you don’t. Because Templars aren’t people to you. What, every Templar wants their own personal slave? Thrask is a good man, he cares about mages, his daughter was an abomination and he lost her. And you,” she spat, her voice raised, “all you could see was a Templar.  _ You wanted to kill him _ just to give a pack of blood mages a chance to run. I swear to the Maker, take your stupid fucking coat and-- _ what even is that? _ \--what, did you slaughter a dozen birds for those pauldrons? You thought, ‘Hey, if I am going to be risking my life for the resistance and playing the part of the renegade revolutionary at least I will look good doing it?’”

“If that’s an attempt at flirting, now isn’t the time.”

“If I was flirting with you then I doubt you could resist it,” Sarah smirked, her brow raised and her arms folded across her chest.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what it means.”

Anders paused, his lip twitching as he stared at her. She stared back. The tensions there were so palpable they could have been hung by the neck until declared dead. He narrowed his eyes and walked over to his desk, chucking the manifesto to the side with a dramatic flourish. Sarah snorted at the gesture.  _ Mages. _ He turned, his hands on his hips, and glared at her with an acute disgust that she had become accustomed to when they argued, which was often these days. “Sometimes I can’t stand you. You open your mouth and I find myself wanting to ring your neck,” he snapped, “I am  _ trying to talk to you _ about something that matters, to me and to hundreds of others, and you’re making light of it. That’s what you do, isn’t it? Make jokes, shrug things off? I suppose it's easier that way for you. Maintain your charming persona.”

“You think I’m charming? How sweet, thank you dear.”

“Not right now you aren’t. Right now, you’re being ridiculous.”

Sarah’s mouth dropped open. “ _ I _ am being--” she scoffed and held out her hands in a kind of mock-strangling motion and cried out with an exasperated sigh, “ _ I need you to be safe. _ If I didn’t care so much about you  _ being safe _ I would kill you myself, you  _ stupid _ son of a bitch.”

“I’m a mage, I will never be safe.”

“Oh, for the love of--” Sarah ran a hand through her hair and walked in a circle, her hands on her hips, breathing hard. She stopped, took a deep breath, and tented her hands in front of her face. “Anders, what do you want?”

“Freedom.”

“Freedom?”

“Yes. Freedom to have a life, to be equal. To fall in love without fear, to live without fear, to not be confined to the shackles of the Circle with Templars hanging over our heads. To not be isolated in confinement for a blighted year and wonder if it would be easier to climb out the window and jump and let death take you.”

_ Fall in love without fear. _

“What--” Sarah shook her head, trying to gather her thoughts.

_ Fall in love without fear. _

She ran a hand through hair. 

_ Fall in love without-- _

_ Wait _ .

She started to feel sick.

_ Jump and let death take you. _

“Anders, what are you talking about?”

He shifted in his stance, avoiding her eyes, “I have had my moments.”

“You... wanted to end your life?”

“For all the Circle warns about demons,” Anders murmured, “the most common way for a Circle mage to die is by their own hand.”

“I didn’t know that. You never told me that.”

“I never needed to.”

“I wish--” Sarah stopped, looked down at the floor, ran a hand through her hair. She looked back at him with glossy eyes. “I didn’t know that it could get that bad. I just--” she swallowed “--I don’t want anything to happen to you. This is dangerous.”

“ _ Magic _ is dangerous,” Anders sighed, leaning on his desk, “We’ve seen mages succumb, both of us. But while we’re treated like children we will never take responsibility for our actions. We need to be empowered to police ourselves, to learn. We have to, it's the only way we can be free.” He gave her a kind of tentative smile, hopeful. It made her ache in places that she didn’t even realize her part of her body.

“Anders,” Sarah sighed, “You  _ were _ free... to make choices and mistakes and you made plenty of both. Permanent ones. Frustrating ones. Mistakes we need to talk about. ‘How do you expect to lead mages if you are the worst that freedom brings?’ You said that to me not two days ago, standing right there.”

“That doesn’t change anything.”

“Justice changes everything. He already has. He’s already taken pieces of you.”

“And I him. It’s shameful what I have done to him but I can’t change what I am.”

“What  _ you _ have done to  _ him _ ? You really overestimate who is in control here.”

“It was my anger that poisoned him, it’s my fault.”

“I couldn’t give two shits about Justice, I care about what it’s doing to you. What this cause is doing to you. What it  _ could _ do to you.”

Anders was suddenly breathing hard, throwing up his hands in exasperation, “If I convince  _ no one else in Thedas _ , I have you by my side before all this is over.”

“I am by your side,  _ you frustrating,  _ insolent-- _ Maker _ \--” Sarah almost started laughing, her frustration had peaked to such a degree that it was circling back to amusement. “That’s what I am doing. Standing here, by your side. Helping mages, supporting the underground. I will continue to do that. But I am not doing to watch you embrace a cause you cannot win and take on the entire Chantry. You are going to get killed and if you think I am going to sit back and  _ watch _ that happen then you are a complete idiot.”

“So, now I’m an idiot?”

“Sometimes, yes. You are an idiot.”

“Unbelievable.This is  _ important _ .”

“What, you’re going to march into the Gallows with pages in hand and throw them in the face of every Templar? March up the Knight Commander, take a parchment, shove it in her mouth and tell her to choke on it? See if that wins you any favors in Kirkwall. Sometimes I wonder if your feet are quite  _ literally _ melded to that soap box you stand on.”

“And now you’re mocking me.”

“No, I am trying to make a point. If you want to do this, then do it with a semblance of common sense and tact. All you do is barrel forward, staff raised, screaming into the void. It isn’t going to work like that. We have to work with what we have if we want something to change.”

“ _ What we have isn’t working, that’s the point.  _ No one is listening to us.”

His tone had changed now. Anders wasn’t angry, he wasn’t frustrated. It was more akin to… despair. Begging. Pleading. The look on his face rendered her armorless, and it said what his words couldn’t.

_ If I don’t help them no one will, Hawke. We will lose them. _

Sarah took in a shuddering breath and tried to calm herself down.

“I’m listening,” she murmured, her voice pained, “Right now. And I am telling you that there are better ways. You said you were going to talk to the Grand Cleric, that’s a start.”

“Yes, a start. In the meantime we have more mages being made Tranquil and being abused. Do you have any idea how many we have smuggled out of Kirkwall? We can’t afford to be patient, sit idly by while the Grand Cleric and the First Enchanter fail us.”

“And you’re fit to lead, then?  _ You of all people _ ?”

“Why not me?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Let me count the ways.”

There it was again. That frustration that was so rooted in her now that she didn’t know how to even express its depth. But it wasn’t just about Justice or Ella or the cause. It was about that abyss she was falling into and had been steadily stepping towards for three years. It wasn’t that she didn’t agree with the plight of the mages, she did. It was her father’s greatest gift to her, the precious nature of choice. When it came to the complexities of it, she could argue all day. But it wasn’t the  _ complexity  _ that kept her awake, woke her in a cold sweat, made her feel like she was drowning in the middle of a summer day. It wasn’t the cause but its consequences.

_ I can’t lose you. _

“Hawke.”

She blinked. Focused. Frowned.

“You’re an abomination, for one. You’re possessed. Strong will power isn’t exactly going to overpower that. We can’t change it, we have to accept it.”

“Look, I--”

“And there are people that need you. Here. Alive.”

“I am helping in the resistance.”

“What happens if you die?”

“Then I die.”

“Unacceptable.”

“I am sorry that the inevitable mortality of man is unacceptable to you.”

“You don’t just  _ get to die _ as if it doesn’t matter.”

“I am just one man, if mages benefit from my death then so be it.”

“Well, I certainly don’t benefit from your death.”

“Please, you can find another healer.”

“Anders.”

“What?”

“Don’t pretend this doesn’t affect my life. You know it does.”

“You make it so hard to talk about this. I  _ need _ your support. You more than anyone.”

“Regardless of whether or not your cause is right, it doesn’t matter. I don’t want you to get hurt. I won’t let you get hurt. If that means I get in your way, so be it,” Sarah stepped toward him, closer than she had allowed herself to get in years, “Watch me.”

Anders’ eyes were wild, locked on hers. Their faces were close enough to feel the semblance of heat and Sarah was acutely aware of it. Her breathing was more shallow than she wanted and her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Anders softened slightly, unsure. Then the mask returned, cold and removed.

“I swear,” he spat, stepping away from her, “I don’t know whether to kiss you or kill you.”

“The feeling is mutual, I assure you,” Sarah retorted.

They stood like that a moment, space between them that was practically a visible gulf, echoing when they spoke. Her breathing was ragged still and she couldn’t seem to calm herself down. It mattered too much, she cared too deeply. It was terrifying.

“Do you know what I am afraid of?” she murmured after a moment, breaking the tenacious silence.

“Yes.”

“That was rhetorical.”

“Spiders.”

“I--” she started, her brows raised, “I can’t believe you remembered that.”

“I remember everything you tell me about yourself,” he said matter of factly, though he was still scowling. His expression didn’t alter the tone of his voice, though. It was softer than she had expected.

“I see,” Sarah murmured, “No, not that. Worse than that, then. The thing that keeps me up at night.”

“No.”

Sarah looked at him with the full force of her gaze, standing tall and speaking without apology. “It’s you.” Anders looked pained and she held up a hand to explain. “It’s this lingering fear that one day, I will be walking through the Gallows with Varric and the sun is shining and the day is clear and we’re making crass jokes with Isabela. I’ll walk into the courtyard and in the corner of my eye I will see a face I know well. It’s a face that I memorized,” she said softly, looking down at her feet, “every little thing about it.” Anders softened. Sarah felt her throat closing. “I see you, I smile,” she started again, but her voice was shaking, “You don’t smile back at me. I get closer and I see that face I know... but it's different now. Empty. That fire is gone. You’re gone. You’re standing there with the brand. You don’t look at me even when you look at me. It’s like you see nothing at all. And it's because you pissed off the wrong Templar or you pushed too hard or you were too stupid to cover your tracks. You said you were afraid of being made Tranquil,” she closed her eyes, preventing tears, forcing them back. “I’m afraid of it too. I don’t want you to look at me and ask what’s wrong, why I am looking at you like that. I don’t want to see Karl in you.” Sarah held herself, shaking her head. Her heartbeat was quick now, thundering, pounding. The abyss was so close. “It isn’t that I care less about mages,” she said after a moment and looked up at him, her eyes on his, “It’s that I care about you more.” They stood like that for a moment, an expression of fear on both their faces and a beautiful, cruel desire to reach out. “’Rule does not serve by caging the best of us.’”

Anders took a step toward her, “What does that mean?”

“The Templar that freed my father. That’s what he told him. He was right. You should be free.  _ I want you to be free _ . I just also want you to be safe. I don’t want to lose you. Not to the Templars or to Justice or to the cause or to yourself. You can hate me for it, but I intend to keep you. I told you that. All I see here is something to keep.”

There it was again. The abyss was calling, whispering, begging. 

_ Fall. _

Sarah knew what she must look like, her eyes wide and scared. Her own fear was mirrored in his face. Anders looked more afraid than he had when they faced the Gallows. It was silent and still in the clinic, nothing stirred. He opened his mouth to speak, closed it, opened it again, and gave a sort of defeated sigh. 

“I think about you all the time.”

Sarah nodded, tears threatening again. “I know.”

“It’s… constant. It aches.”

“I know,” she breathed.

“This can only end in ruin,” Anders ran a hand through his hair, looking away from her, “this is insane.”

“I know.” 

Sarah stayed there, slightly shivering, her arms wrapped around her chest. Looking back at the clinic door, she took in a heavy breath and walked toward it.

“Maybe I should go.”

“No,” Anders stopped her, “I want you to stay.”

“It’s a bad idea.”

“Yes.”

Sarah turned away from him and walked toward the door but he grabbed her wrist and immediately pulled her into a kiss. The abyss enfolded her and she was lost in it. 

_ Watch for that moment and when it comes, do not hesitate to leap. _

If it was possible to channel three years of heartache, hope, pain and passion into a single moment, then that was achieved. Sarah dropped her defenses and let go entirely, surprising herself at the way it hurt. There were flashes of feeling, a hand in her hair, lips on her own, the pressure of an arm wrapped around her. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe but it had little to do with how her mouth was occupied. It was the sheer force of it, the heaviness of it. There was so much love in her that it spilled out in agony. No matter what her lips did or her hands did or how she maneuvered herself, it wasn’t enough to express the sheer volume of that affection. It was rolling off her in waves and covering him entirely. 

Anders tore away from her after what felt like an eternity, almost forcing himself. They stood there, foreheads pressed together, shaking, lingering in the moment. His fingers rested tentatively on her own and she did her best to slow her breathing. Sarah stifled a soft cry, trying desperately to be still.  _ Don’t. _ The abyss was part of her now, inside her, never to be removed. There was a hole ripped inside her that was shaped like him and only he could heal it. But he was so good at healing. 

Sarah looked up, aware of the tears that had spilled over and were coating her face now. Anders looked at her with that same terror but it was riddled with the same overpowering affection that had consumed her own life. He inched closer toward her, as if to kiss her again, but he stopped himself. Anders swallowed, took in a deep breath, and took a step back from her. The action was not meant to wound but even with his taste still lingering in her mouth, the slight distance made her panic. 

“Come home with me,” Sarah breathed, her quiet voice pleading, “Right now.”

“You… you need to think about this. I’m not always a gentle man.”

“Come home with me, Anders,” she said softly, almost as if asking a question.

“Sarah,” his voice cracked and he held up a hand in protest, “please.”

“You’ve never called me by my name.”

“Seems appropriate right now.”

She smiled, despite herself, “I like how it sounds when you say it.”

Anders smiled back, both pained and affectionate at once. 

“Go home. If you still want this--” he said soberly, “--leave your door open tonight. If I see that it’s closed, I’ll know you finally listened to me.”

He gave her a dismissive look and she knew he meant it. Wiping her eyes, she turned away and walked toward the clinic door, pausing as she did so. She glanced back at him and his expression reminded her of the way Bethany looked when she was taken away from her, taken to the Circle. Resigned sadness, mingled with longing. 

She knew that no matter how she fought herself when she got home, no matter how many times she paced in her room and argued with herself… she would leave her door open. It was always opened, from the moment she met him. It was never going to have been closed. 


End file.
